Ah… testing season! While the rest of the world smiles and watches colorful little flowers pop their heads out from the last winter’s frost, Debbie and I are held captive in little dusty textbook room counting endless copies of state mandated exams. For years I have tried to “get rid of” this particular part of my administrative duties, but year after year I allow myself to be convinced that no one can do it as well as I can (“I” meaning mostly Debbie) Of course we both have our own little form of psychosis… I have issues with books all facing the same direction and Debbie gets a bit territorial over the #2 sharpened pencils. Despite ourselves we seem to re-emerge in June as sane human beings and are assimilated back into society as if the madness never happened.
Today was the first day of the “season.” All California tenth graders are administered the California High School Exit Exam, as well as eleventh and twelfth graders who have not yet passed. This particular exam is required for graduation so the stakes are quite high. After seven years of giving this particular exam, both Deb and I remarked that we didn’t seem as agitated as previous years and I actually woke up this morning with a smile on my face.
Despite the rush of stupid little questions, testing was going quite well. I was quite smug with my sense of ease until I came across a young man sitting at a table. I had spent the previous 15 minutes “shooing” tardy kids to class or their testing sites and thought nothing of questioning this young man as to why he was not in class. I asked, “Where are you supposed to be right now.” He replied, “Right here.” I started laughing (a precursor to anger inherited from my father) and said; “I don’t think I remember us scheduling anyone under the tree for 1st period.” That’s all it took… this young man shot off like a rocket. I then gave him a prompt escort to my office and a suspension phone call to his father while he continued to berate me. His father agreed to come get him.
I then managed to return to the 889 testers for business as usual. I drove around campus in the trusty golf cart checking testing sites, when I heard a call for wheelchair. A co-administrator had tripped on the tarp that was placed on the gym floor for protection and fell on her already injured knee. I rushed to the gym to find her with tears in her eyes and unable to walk. I assisted her with ice and bandage and insisted that she go to the hospital. Once she was enroute to the office, I returned to my rounds. We had used 10 portables, the Library, the Multipurpose Room, and the Gym as testing sites. Of course all the teachers I misplaced from the portables had to be “dropped” in prep period classrooms while the rest of campus went on with school as usual. The logistics of this particular exam is a nightmare.
Unfortunately, we were forced to place 350 testers in the gym since our large campus was now stretched to its capacity. Upon my return, I explained the mornings outburst to a colleague only to find out that the kid I had just suspended has Asperger Syndrome… now I felt about an inch high and returned to office to contact his parents and attempt to work out a compromise.
Following my plate of “humble pie” I returned to the gym again to assist with the larger number of testers when I was greeted a campus supervisor requesting assistance with a belligerent young man of her own. After numerous attempts to convince him to put away his I-Pod he refused and was getting mouthy with her. The next few minutes are a blur, but I do remember using a statement I have used only one other time in my career, “Go ahead and hit me, it’s a felony”! This young man was smart enough to refrain from the act, but noticing the tattoos on the back of his neck my following questions were “When did you get out of the Hall” and “Who is your Probation Officer”? He was also escorted to the office for a brief vacation. I would have preferred a chain gang, but California law prohibits common sense solutions. I called a couple of friends I have in the Juvenile Authority and suggested a little extra love for him.
I returned to the Gym, yet a third time… turned my radio off and sat down daring anyone to call me for anything. This lasted about fifteen minutes until I got the heebie geebies and had to get up and check on everything again. About noon-thirty we concluded the exam. All the testing bins were being returned to the “Hole”… aka the textbook room. Debbie began to help me inventory… room numbers were simply not coming out correctly. Fatigue had set in and I was worn out emotionally. All I remember is saying room 6-21, meaning room 7-21 when Debbie corrected me I snapped… “You know what I mean”! After putting up with my sass for seven years now she looked me squarely in the eye and said “You’re getting cranky.” CRANKY?? CRANKY?? You’ve got to be kidding! I wasn’t “getting” anything! I firmly stood in the land of Cranky and had now set up shop! I was tired of tests, tired of smart mouth kids, tired of stupid questions, and just down right tired!
Just as if she was dealing with ornery child, Debbie said… “go get something to eat and you will feel better.” Well, she was right, even if it was diet food. I was able to return to sort bins and shuffle exams with her for the following day of testing. And I guess testing isn’t that bad, heck I actually missed the irate parent who wanted to complain that her daughter was suspended and arrested for stealing a girls’s I-Pod the previous day. Sometimes blessings come in testing bins!
